


And So They Grew Better

by JiMoriartea



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (You might think you can hide but we know your secret Crow), Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley installing the fear of God, Crowley is threatening his houseplants and I am worried for him, Gen, Hastur's shrieking might make an appearance, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Now this sounds pretty terrifying but it's actually quite funny, POV Crowley's houseplants, Seriously you frightened things GROW BETTER!!, So stay tuned, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and for the houseplants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-06-30 06:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19847716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiMoriartea/pseuds/JiMoriartea
Summary: There were Rules.First -  names are chosen by Him and if He doesn’t choose them, they - the houseplants - simply do it themselves. Every time a new plant appears, she gets a name. No reusing, no changes. Every time a plant disappears... well. That’s not the point now.Second - Help is essential between co-residing houseplants. Bigger plants shelter smaller ones, small ones make pacts with the weed to help the surrounding plants. The Silent Ones aren’t part of this agreement (except for special circumstances).Third -Don’t. Have. Spots.





	1. The Fear Of Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Hilda, my lovely ficus plant who, despite everything I've put her through, _still lives._
> 
> I am using the she/her pronouns for plants because 1) I need to distinguish between them and Him, the Great God of Greenery and 2) In my language, the word for houseplant has a female gender.
> 
> Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts as this is my very first work in the GO fandom and all in all a _huge_ experiment xD

In the beginning, there was Light. And that’s all there was for a long time. Light all around, inaudible noises and barely registered touches on the surface of her leaves. The world around her spoke of warmth and care. She bathed in Light and even though she didn’t know a proper name for it yet (“Light” was just a substitute so far - her vocabulary wasn’t that wide at this point) she knew its presence meant her no harm.

With her roots deep in the moist soil and her leaves reaching around her and growing and growing and _growing_ (because that’s what the Light wanted, for her to grow) she simply existed in this space given to her. As time went, she learned. She came to know the cycle of Day and Night, she learned where her roots ended and where her leaves could reach, and she started to sense other Things around her.

No, not “Things”, she realised when a gentle nudge stopped her musings and urged her to rethink it. It wasn’t Things she was feeling but Presences. Other… houseplants.

They were all around her, plants. All like sisters, growing and bathing in the Light with her and sharing the same space and breathing the air that was filled with the Light and wasn’t it just so inexplicably beuti-

_No._

As soon as she started to finally _see_ what was around her and feel the Light coming closer and closer- she wobbled. Wobbled and lifted - no, she _had been lifted_ by something - and moved and taken somewhere and the Light enveloped her but it didn’t feel comforting anymore because she couldn’t see, couldn’t _understand…_

____________________

That was a long time ago. 

(A few years maybe? Those were difficult to keep track of when one felt so in sync with the changing of Days and Nights that were adding up into Weeks. Nothing else seemed important.)

(What was a year, anyway?)

No.444, as she came to call herself (not by her choice but according to the Rules), shook out her leaves and felt the small spider that’s been hidden there lose his footing and fall somewhere into her leafage. It calmed her, shaking her leaves out when she wanted to. Doing anything because of her own will soothed No.444. In fact, it soothed most of the other plants, too, she’d found, and it was just as well because if they needed anything, it was a way to calm themselves.

Why? Because of Him.

 _H_ _e_ ’s been here since forever. At least, that’s what the old No.66 shared. He’s been here since forever and He’s still the same. Unchanging just like the room temperature. Distant and detached yet ever-present in one way or another and angry, always so _angry_. He watches over them and they’re dependent on Him. They owe Him everything.

No.444 is aware, deep in her leaves, that He has a name. A name everybody, apart from her, knows. Even No.445 who came after her. Even she. Apparently, there’s better access to the General Forbidden Knowledge when you’re perched on the highest spot of the living room. (But she won’t share it, _can’t_ share it even if she knows because she’s-)

It’s just “Him” and nobody calls Him by anything else. Nobody _dares to_.

There’s an Order in the way things work under His watch. A set of Rules to follow.

First - names are chosen by Him and if He doesn't choose them, they - the houseplants - simply do it themselves. Every time a new plant appears, she gets a name. No reusing, no changes. Every time a plant disappears- well. That's not the point now.

(According to the old No.66, this has been going on since a plant heard Him talk to someone else about the importance of a name: "You can't give everything a name, angel. This way you'll be crushed when it dies." No.66 shared this information with No.444 back when they stood next to each other on the windowsill. She had mentioned that "angel" was probably some kind of a gardening tool. No.444 thought No.66's age might be catching up with her. She almost _lost a leaf_ because of the energy her cells had to produce to reach that conclusion, but she was certain "angel" was a special houseplant that He chose as His exclusive company.)

Second - Help is essential between co-residing houseplants. Bigger plants shelter smaller ones, small ones make pacts with the weed to help the surrounding plants. The Silent Ones aren’t part of this agreement (except for special circumstances).

Third - _Don’t. Have. Spots._

Those were the three unspoken rules that all the plants abode by. Well, not all of the plants. Not the Silent Ones. Those were named without their knowledge, and ignored by most. They were silent, after all. Who would want to share with them? They tended to be _replaced_ more often, anyway.

No.444 had to suppress a shiver whenever she thought about _replacing._ All the houseplants had the same reaction to that. Fear. And it wasn’t simply that they were scared, no. They all remembered the story of No.394 who had been hiding a spot near her stem. He, of course, found out. No.444 hadn’t been around at that time and she is glad about it - old No.66 shared with her that No.394’s fate made third of her sisters in the hall wither _on the spot_ . So,.. no, the houseplants weren’t simply scared. They were _terrified._

____________________

Reviving the sensations from her oldest cells was one of No.444’s favourite pastimes. It allowed her a way to calm herself before the Week’s End. To free all her vascular bundles from the deep-rooted anxiety. She would bend her leaves and draw her sap to her centre, and she would reach and reach and _remember_ small pieces of Light touching her roots. She would feel phantom warmth spreading through the soil around her, urging her to grow and grow _and grow._

She knew it was pointless and that if she shared this with No.314 beside her, she would be only made fun of. And she didn’t need anybody curling their leaves at her like the time she shared with the other plants that she liked giving things a Meaning, that Night and Day felt so much better flowing through her sap vessels than a simple “night” and “day”. No, she didn’t need that. But there was a strange want in her, a silent ache that’s been there ever since she could remember. An urge to find the Light again.

So, she prevailed. She grew and made negotiations with the weeds and paid attention to how things were done. She minded her leaves, stretching them up and up, catching the Sunlight (No, really. Wasn’t that better than a simple “sunlight” when the thing in question meant so much to her?) and abiding by the Rules. Also, every Day, together with all of her sisters, she counted the time till the Week’s End.

Which was today.

And she wasn’t ready.

Every Week’s End, it came to this. The houseplants formed a union of trembling leaves, covering their sisters in fear of what was coming. Every Week’s End, He would come with a plastic plant mister in His hand. He would spray them with Water, gently, evenly. He would observe them and talk to them. Every once in a while, one of them would get punished for a weak leaf or her slow growth. She would be faced with His anger and she would be Reprimanded. Every so often, though, He would go further with executing the punishment. Sometimes, He would make a slow circle through the room and the hall next to it, lecturing them on their growth. He would watch them closely, and He would _see_ and pick the plant who had been trying to hide leaf-wilt or browning. He would take her on her Last Tour around the flat. “Say goodbye to your friend,” He would tell them. “She just couldn’t cut it…”

And the underperforming houseplant would be… _replaced._

It wasn’t so much the fact that He would take their sister away from them that made all the other plants so frightened. No, it was what came afterwards. After He left and the air settled again, they would sense vibrations coming from somewhere outside the hall. There would be a low, cutting sound similar to a hundred flies buzzing at the same time. Then, after a while, He would return. He would _smile_. And he would lift an empty flower pot into the air for all of them to see. Then, he’d gently place it to the vacant space between them. And then, he would _leaf_. (No.444 enjoyed a good pun - or a bad one for that matter - here and there. It took the edge off things. It was another thing she wouldn't share if her flowerpot depended on it. )

Today, even the old No.66 (who usually wobbled so much in her uneven pot that she outtrembled every other houseplant just because of gravity alone) seemed calm in comparison to No.444’s state. They all knew what was coming. Who. And even though they were already doing their best to shelter her, everyone knew who was going to be Reprimanded this time.

On a normal day, she could be described as a luxuriant rubber plant with beautiful leafage. Today, though, No.444’s leaves were almost vibrating with the all-consuming fear that pulsed through them. Quivering, she stood hidden in the shade of the tall No.398, all her leaves pressed down, _down_ onto her soil. They were covering an old leaf on the very bottom. They were covering... its Spot.

“...Is that a spot?”

No.444 must have lost herself in the soothing sensation of tiny water droplets spraying her stomata because the quiet words came as a surprise. 

_“Is it?”_ He was standing above her, the plant mister in one hand and an ice cold expression on His face. “Now you _know_ what I’ve told you about leaf spots,” He almost growled, giving each of them a glare. “I will not _stand for them!”_

Reaching out with His empty hand, He picked her up, giving her a closer look. Anger radiated from him in waves. Anger and frustration and maybe also something else - “You know what you’ve done. You’ve disappointed me. Oh dear, oh dear...” - There was a surprising trace of _sadness_ in the uttered words. It disappeared as soon as she sensed it, though.

“Everyone,” He exclaimed, “say goodbye to your friend!” The ominous words echoed through the hall as he held her up for all of her sisters to see. “Just _couldn’t cut it…”_

A new wave of trembling ran through the houseplants as He walked past them with a terrified No.444 in His grasp. “Now this is gonna hurt you _so much more_ than it will hurt me,” she heard Him say in mock sympathy. Three of her youngest leaves _withered instantly_.

“And you, guys,...” He turned around, regarding the rest of the plants for a moment before His face morphed into a look of pure rage. _“GROW BETTER!_ ”

With each step He then took, No.444 felt the echoes hit her again and again. Swinging back and forth around His hips, she let herself be carried farther and farther away from the only place she knew and could consider her home. Farther from No.66 and all of her sisters. Farther from the last traces of Light. There was no hope of finding the Light ever again, she knew. There was no hope of anything. Not in the face of what laid ahead.

Turning right, they left the hall and two more of the young leaves on No.444’s top came close to drying out. She knew what was going to happen next.

 _Replacement._ (And now she was beginning to reconsider her stance on the word “replacement”. It definitely needed a capital R in it.) He was going to throw her into some terrible machine that would yank her roots out from their soil and tear her leaves in half one by one. Or just wreck her whole - the ominous sounds that could be heard after the last _replacement_ were still fresh in her cells _._ Or he was going to douse her with some high-solution detergent that would slowly burn through her stomata and into her vascular tissue. He could… He could also _powder her with aphids_ and let _them_ carry out the punishment…

Before more of her leaves could wither and die from the sheer terror of the last possibility, a door slam roused No.444 from her dark musings. _She was doomed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This experiment will probably have 3 chapters at total, the next update being somewhere at the end of August, I hope. (the reason is that I will be kind of busy and most likely without a stable wi-fi connection xD)


	2. Falling Is Just Like Flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said "by the end of August", right? Well, here is chapter two, fashionably late (my apologies but Crowley would have approved) and ready for your comments :'3  
> Also, "plant angst" (plangst?) needs to become a tag. ...I'm sirius.

A shudder ran through her stem as her pot connected with a hard surface. _Now. Now she will meet her end._

The sound of His steps retreating made the sap in her vascular bundles pulse even more rapidly than before. 

Something ripped. Then it sounded as though dozens of small rocks had been poured into a metal pot. Then, the screaming began.

It was the same sound that vibrated through all the houseplants after each _replacement_. A hundred flies buzzing in the same, constricted space, loud and furious. From up close, though, it felt even worse. Like a lawnmower cutting into shrubs of wild roses. A lawnmower cutting into wild roses and _tearing them to shreds._

Shaking more than aspen leaves, No.444 awaited her imminent end.

The screaming stopped with a quiet click. A sound of sand being poured into a small cup. Then a low, humming voice filled the air and she sensed His steps approaching her again.

Wait... _humming?_ Here they were, right before her impending destruction, and He, _He_ had the atrocity to hum to himself as though it was _nothing?_

Reaching behind her, He turned off the boiling pot - and she must have been really and truly out of it if she hadn’t noticed the vibrations emerging from the scalding liquid right next to her - and lifted it up. 

_No. Not the boiling water, no_ \- 

He tilted the pot and poured its content down.

No.444 froze.

A bittersweet aroma filled the air, followed by a satisfied sigh.

_Clack_

The kettle clicked back into its place and she sensed His hand pulling away. No.444 stood frozen in shock. _What was happening?_

“God, coffee. I really needed this.”

And then, frustrated: “ Aaaah , I can’t _believe_ I just said that! _”_

A single leaf unwound from the death grip seizing No.444’s whole being. It curled experimentally and touched her pot's edge.

Nothing happened.

No.444 allowed the rest of her leaves to loosen up until they rested in a more comfortable position. The fight left her and there was no way she could ever hide the damage she’s suffered, anyway.

“Feeling adventurous, are we?” came an amused question.

No.444 stilled and the small twigs on her top peeked a bit. _Amused?_ He never sounded amused. Sarcastic, yes. Cold, angry or simply bored, sure. But never amused. Something was _wrong._

A hand closed around her pot and it was all she could do not to lose another leaf as He lifted her to inspection. His gaze, calculating, slid over the brown spot, now entirely visible without her younger leaves' protection. It continued to the withered parts of her branches and to the rest of her leaves that now almost hung from between her twigs, too exhausted from the previous shock to put up an appearance. His unblinking eyes - and it was just now that she realised she’s never been in such proximity to Him to sense them this well - pierced through her, silent and glowing.

“Which one are you,” He mused, “1990 or something. The middle-October batch, hm? Number…” there was a pause and she had just enough time to briefly wonder what an “okto-ber” was before He smiled - no, _smirked_ , she realised (strange how a few minutes could sharpen the way she perceived Him) - and finished with a nod: “Number four hundred and forty four.”

_He knew her._

Of _course_ He knew her, how could she ever doubt that? He knew _everything_.

A new wave of fear seizing her, the sap drew almost all the way down to her main roots. Not having the energy to start trembling, she simply awaited what would come next.

“Well," he cocked his eyebrow and drawled: "Congratulations then. You are now fallen, dear Four-four-four.”

The words didn’t register, though. All No.444’s senses were now focused on the sudden wave of cold air hitting her roots as He pulled her out of her pot. In a second, there was a sound of fingers snapping and before her roots’ ends could curl and die from the shock, a new one wrapped itself around her soil. Most importantly, though, she was finally placed down again. Even His silent groan and muttered words of something along “rubbing off on me alright, isn’t he?” couldn’t suppress the soothing sensation of having a solid ground underneath her again. There was only so many times a houseplant could be lifted into thin air without lifelong consequences, she reasoned.

Lifting her withered leaves one by one, He tutted: “We’ll need to do something about those.” His fingers combed through the disarranged wigs, picking the dead ones and carefully separating them from her stem. “Can’t have you scaring off the invalids, can we.” His voice grew so soft that it made No.444 recover from her slightly-stunned state and wonder whether He was speaking to her at all.

Then His hands left her leaves and she sensed Him retreat, carrying the old plant pot and her dead body parts away. The air around her calmed as His presence grew distant once again. If she were a different type of being, she would probably sigh with exhaustion and relief. This way, though, only her remaining leaves shifted a bit as the sap flow in her vessels returned to normal.

________________

Any regular oxygen-producing being would expect things to return to normal after that. No.444 took pride in being unusual, though, so it came as no surprise to her when everything changed. 

She got her own stand, for one.

It was a small table perched in the very corner of a room He referred to as “the study” - a space close to the Room (the place where her sisters were. After a while, No.444 began to sense the body of them through the nearest wall and also witnessed Him carrying the plant mister there several times already, even though it’s been only one Day and Night since her Replacement.)

(There was a deep certainty in her roots that now that she came through the feared Replacement, she would freely admit to giving it a capital R, even to the annoying No.314. No.444 felt proud of that fact.)

Another noticeable change was the increased proximity she now shared with Him. From being in His close presence once or twice a Week, she now experienced almost constant exposure to His nervous and aggravated energy. (Not that there was any lack of it to begin with - He was everpresent, after all - the energy only flowed a bit less intensely back then.)

For the past few hours, though, said energy has been reduced to a low hum at the edge of No.444’s awareness, waiting to be awoken once He came back again. She had sensed Him leave shortly after talking to that strange Thing in the middle of the study again.

It was near the middle of the previous Day when the Thing came to life and started talking in His voice for the first time. A spider had been making its way up her stem and into her upper leafage when a sudden change in the sounds made her twigs perk up. “Hey, this is Anthony Crowley,” the strange thing had said and then continued with something about a thing called “style”. No.444 would have probably spent more time on sensing through the new word when another voice spoke. As soon as she tried to place it in her roots' memory, though, He came and silenced it. 

It was all so new to No.444 that when He said “what” two times in a row with an increased sense of incredulity and then simply ran out of the room, she’d still been processing the familiarity of the other voice and trying to draw some memory of it from her unresponsive radix. It was hard to concentrate, though, and the spider that had in the meantime climbed onto her top to start working on his web wasn’t helping matters, either.

The second time the Thing came to life, No.444 had been prepared. Reaching with all her senses towards the study’s centre, she focused on what she understood must have been a conversation between Him and the familiar someone inside the Thing.

“Any news? Found the missing Antichrist yet?” He had said and the sap vessels in the tips of No.444's leaves positively tingled with His anticipation.

The other person replied in a muted voice, rushing through nothings and nos and generally not making much sense and sounding quite nervous before they finished with “I mean, we’re friends. Why would you even ask?”

“Oh. No news here, either. Call me if you find anything.”

“Absolutely. Why would you think I wouldn’t?” they said just before the Thing clicked, He made a frustrated sound and then walked away.

(No.444’s first private theory of what happened was that the being the familiar voice belonged to used to be His.. someone. A friend, they said. She remembered hearing the voice around in the past but couldn’t recall any details. Anyway, the person probably ended up in the Thing as a punishment. They must have angered Him so much that He locked them inside and instructed them to search for the “antichrist”, whatever it was.)

The last time that strange conversation happened had been just before He’d gone away. No.444 had been finishing the last stage of her sap cleansing routine, all the time successfully ignoring His presence lingering a small distance from her and emitting nervous energy. Just as she started shaking her top leaves out for the last time, He stood up from what she supposed had to be His relaxing position and went to talk to the prisoner again.

This talk had been different, though. Shorter, for one. Also, He and the being inside the Thing had agreed to meet somewhere (The “third alternative randez-vous”, she understood).

That had been a turning point for No.444’s theory. How could He meet them if they were locked inside of the Thing? It didn’t make _sense_. 

Too absorbed in her musings to be aware of her surroundings, she noticed His disappearance only after He’d already vanished. It didn’t matter, though. He’d come back soon enough, she reasoned. Now there were more important things at hand (or, in her case, branch). 

The new theory was still a work in progress but there were several points of which No.444 was absolutely certain.

First, the other person - His Person, she decided to call them for now - couldn't be locked in the Thing. Not only the Thing was too small to hold anyone He would decide to spend His time with, but it also had _His_ voice locked inside. That had lead to No.444’s conclusion - the Thing was only for transporting beings like Him through time and space so they could meet. His Person had to be somewhere else.

Second, both He and His Person were searching for that antichrist thing. (It must have been even more important than the “somebody to love” He’s been searching for since she could remember. No.444 had been wondering why he wasn’t singing about that person anymore. Now she felt especially proud for figuring out the truth.)

Having the most pressing matters resolved, No.444 decided to leave the fine details of her working theory for later and move to her other project instead. (She’d heard the word “project” earlier when He was listening to the strange board of flowing energy on the other side of the study. He used it often enough that No.444 knew that there wasn’t anyone locked inside of it and that it only talked about random nonsense like “taxes” and “the golden girls”. Still, she liked to use some of the nice words it said.)

Her other project was focused on exercising her awareness. Earlier that Day she began noticing that her ability to sense the space around her has grown since her Replacement. So far, she was able to reach as far as the end of her sisters’ Room in one direction and almost as far as the end of the study. There was still an unresponsive piece of stone in the wall across from her and a strange box right next to it that mystified her, though. She couldn’t sense anything from either of those objects. Anything at all. Her lowest twigs would be drying out from the sheer frustration she experienced whenever she concentrated on it if it weren’t for the last feature of interest that she’d sensed around her.

With all the loitering around and brooding He did (yes, even though she wouldn’t share it No.444 refused to call what He was doing by any other name), she still hasn’t really had much time to sense around this most interesting part of her new environment. Now she gave up focusing on the opposite wall’s mysteries and turned her attention to the small piece of furniture she’d been placed on. 

The phenomenon that has been saving her twigs from withering laid right under her roots, right inside of her stand. Mostly made of dead wood (she had to stop her leaves from curling in disgust - It wouldn’t do to unreasonably lose even more of her beauty by wrinkling or tearing them), the stand had a sort of cavity inside of it. A cavity in which, if her senses weren’t mistaking her, was some other wooden thing. Or partly wooden, at least, because it felt softer than actual dead wood would if it were simply a piece of a deceased tree. Or maybe the Light that seemed to be woven into it was the reason she perceived the object (or rather, the Object) this way. 

Either way, letting the traces of Light wash through her vascular bundles and fill her receptors, No.444 could almost forgive the lives that had been lost for the Object’s creation. The ending result must have been worth it if it made her sap feel like _that_ , she reasoned. Enveloped in the sensation, it came to her as a surprise when her senses picked up on something much darker nearing her. 

At an instant, she recognised His energy. The distant flow of it came off as a lot different than what she was used to, though. Dark, swirling and angry sort of emotion filled the edges of her awareness, making its way closer and closer to her. No.444 felt the way the air tingled with it when He finally arrived. Twigs perking up and leaves straightening, she prepared herself for the oncoming storm.

“Shit, shit, _shit!_ ” No.444 flinched at the sudden spike of anger hitting her epidermis and quickly drew her senses in. “Stupid angels and their stupid _blasted_ rules! Why me? Why do I still _-shit!”_

Here we go.

If the atmosphere were only a tad more intense, No.444 was sure the air around Him would tingle with sparks. Pacing from one end of the study to the other, a swirling ball of unstable energy simmered around Him, following Him like a swarm of flies a rotten apple. “Not friends. _Ha!_ ” he exclaimed, stopping not far from No.444’s table to shed the top layer of His clothing. “Don’t even like each other?” He threw it across the room, _“Obviously!”_

Stomping away, He took up the same position as hours before. A wave of bitterness attacked No.444’s drawn-in senses as He continued His monologue: “Could have been more _persuasive_ , huh? I could have.. taken him out for _crepes_ first.. or something.”

And so it went. He brought Himself a bottle of some cool liquid, filling the air with the smell of fermentation, and started ingesting it thoroughly.

As the time went and as far as No.444 was aware, the energy of His presence dulled and slowed, gradually darkening the room even more. Eventually, it became hard to breathe properly which limited No.444's abilities even more. It was just that kind of night, it seemed.

“Proxima Centauri would have been nice, too. Views of the plasma storms, the Singing Towers... Not as warm, though.” A watery laugh resonated in the darkness, making the atmosphere even more surreal with the _wrongness_ of it all.

“Can’t have you choose the selfish way out, can we? _Damn it!”_

“Proxima would have, would have.. been _really_ nice, it would.”

“Or Raxico.. Raxirico.. fallarius. Falus. Palpatiniusss something…”

“...That would’ve been pretty, won’t it? No heavenly inter.. interfencesss, no Dukes and shit, jussst,.. just you and me in the ssstars, angi.. angel...”

“Bloody opposite sssidess… Don’t need you, azz... Assziraphale!”

“‘Sss been.. nice, knowin’ you.”

_“Shit.”_

If No.444 had to name the traces of different energy vibes coming off of Him, she’d refuse to do so. She’s never experienced such strong waves of… _something_ from Him before. On some level It was as clear to her as distilled water that He’d suffered some sort of immense inner pain. He must have. But. For the past few hours she hasn’t unwound her perception, hasn’t let her senses go anywhere near Him. Hasn't been able to even _breathe_ fully. The soil surrounding her roots has gradually dried out and even with the sap safely drawn to their centres, her lowest leaves started to sag, exhausted by the thick atmosphere. No.444 just couldn’t allow herself to feel for him. Drawing her sap even closer and straightening in her flowerpot, at least as much as she still could, No.444 chose denial.

After a few more hours passed in silence, she had just been making peace with the fact that the rest of the Night would continue in similar flow when a broken cry cut through the air and something shattered against the wall behind her. Sharp sherds showered her leafage, making their way into the smallest holes between the soil and the wood of her stem, cutting them in the process.

That was _enough_. A surge of something akin to anger ran up her vessels and made her sap run wild. She won’t put up with Him anymore, No.444 decided. What did He think, making her leaves suffer the necessary sap withdrawal she’d had to put them through? Was He doing it on a purpose, drying her soil out with His dramatics? 

Whatever. She won’t put her energy into solving His problems anymore.

Sensing Him stand up, No.444 stilled. She forced her whole body to wait it out, despite her leaves' protests. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them react to His proximity.

The sound of His steps echoed in the room before they came to stop in front of her. He crouched down. That something was rolling off of him in waves now and she felt extremely glad for shutting down her senses then if _this_ was what it would be like otherwise. A moment of silence stretched between them before He raised His hand slowly, carefully, hovering it in the air.

What was He doing? Trying to _touch her?_ Did He think it would make everything okay again, remoist her soil and refresh the sap in her vascular bundles? Did He expect she would forgive Him so easily?

As His finger brushed one of her leaves, No.444 made a decision; she wouldn’t.

Some of her sisters might call her petty or self-centred because of what followed but No.444 thought it a good way to express her disdain After all, she had nothing to fear anymore. When His finger made contact with her epidermis, she choked the leaf's vessels. Let it weaken _just enough_. Then, with a small prod of her twig, she let it go. 

Down and down it fell, resting with a silent grace on the table’s surface. Any traces of loss she might have felt were squished down as a new wave of resolve steeled her. He couldn’t think she’d make it _that easy._

Sighing, He brought the hand down to rest against the dark wood of her table, caressing its surface. “Aziraphale,” she heard Him choke out before His head sank down and His presence enveloped the Light shining from the Object underneath her. 

A sudden tremor ran through her stem as His fist connected with the wood. What was He trying to accomplish? No.444 would have shed her whole top layer of leaves just to show her disapproval if it weren’t for the sounds He was making. Repeating the A word again and again, His whole being started to shake with... _sobs?_

She could perceive His presence all around her stand now, swirling and _changing._ Not in its nature, no. But there was a silent shift in the air before His suddenly long, lean body slithered down the table and curled itself tightly around it, resting its head near the front where the traces of Light were the strongest.

After that, everything grew silent once more. The energy flow calmed - slowly, gradually slipping into a low ache washing the edges of her awareness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This chapter's title is taken from a Moriarty quote "Falling is just like flying except there's a more _permanent destination."_  
>  (There are several more references, mainly to Doctor Who and Sherlock. Who spotted them all?)
> 
> 2) I'm beginning to really enjoy making No.444 miss the bigger picture completely xD  
> I hope you liked the plangst :'3
> 
> 3) as you might have noticed, the chapter count changed from three to four. That's because I found it impossible to just skip over the drama and this chapter got longer than anticipated. Next: the rest of the canon, including Hastur's screeching (I especially cannot wait for that one xD)
> 
> (1st of Oct edit: As you might have noticed, the wordcount has also changed. That is because I am still finding it difficult skipping over the drama (hah what's new) and instead of putting it into the 3rd chapter, which I cannot wait to finish, I am adding stuff into this one (ghastly practice, I know). I am therefore using the notes to promise you and myself that from now on, I will channel my plangst-writing in a more productive way O..o)

**Author's Note:**

> Please share your thoughts on this! I'm genuinely interested in what do you think about the plants-POV thing :'D. And about my main character, No.444!! (hey, Artemis Fowl readers, does it ring a bell?) 
> 
> Also, if you notice anything language-wise, tell me as well :')  
> __________  
> Updates will be... monthly if my uni feels generous enough :'D But. They WILL BE THERE. I am definitely planning on finishing this as it's a project I'm most excited about these days. (Seriously, write unexpected things. It's such fun!)


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